The Book of Love
by Sunbird Riding Shotgun
Summary: Six little pages torn out of their book of love... N/E


**Notes: **Major MAJOR Schmoop alert. I mean really, really, it's six pages of Love without a whole lot of plot. I'm going to have to go write something really really depressing just to BEGIN to get a balance back to my muses after this.  
I blame Shall We Dance and of course The Book of Love.

* * *

**The Book of Love**

* * *

They should have never let Sophie pick the Friday night movie, even if it was her turn. They were thieves. They broke bigger rules all the time.

But Sophie chose the movie, and she chose Shall We Dance, and afterwards Parker wanted to learn how to dance. Sophie was aghast that she didn't know how. When she found out even Hardison didn't know how to waltz or anything she insisted in a flustered voice on lessons.

And somehow, because Nate was secretly still her bitch even if Eliot knew quite certain that Nate was sleeping with him thank you very much, they all got wrangled into the lesson.

So here they were, on a Wednesday when they could have been relaxing around Nate's apartment and, Eliot didn't know… watching a game or something, in the studio upstairs (_Eliot's Studio, for training at killing people) _pairing up to dance. Sophie was with Hardison, Nate with Parker, teaching a basic waltz while Eliot sat nearby to laugh. At least Sophie knew enough not to ask if he knew how to dance. Amie's mama had seen to that, no boy was going to take her daughter to junior prom without knowing a proper waltz.

Eliot was wondering if when he got bored of laughing at Hardison's awkward ass he should (or could) just leave when Sophie's foot got stepped on again. Frustrated she called a break to the lesson, leaving the music running in the background.

Hardison plunked himself next to Eliot and got the look on his face like his geek pride had been insulted and he was about to start bitching.

"Man, why do we have to learn this stuff? I'm twenty two years old. Ain't no one my age who can dance like that. Seriously? And why are you getting a free pass? I bet you don't know how to dance."

Eliot was still trying to decide how to respond (or if a glare was sufficient) when Nate stepped into his line of vision and held out his hand. "May I have this dance?"

Later he knew he'd have to threaten to kick Hardison's ass on principle from the jokes he'd inevitably make about Eliot being able to slip so easily into dancing the girls part (he blamed a Sadie Hawkins dance on that). And maybe he'd glare at Parker for making those highly inappropriate noises and insisting they kiss.

But somewhere the withered southern boy in him felt right that they'd gone dancing, even if it was only one song.

_**The book of love is long and boring  
No one can lift the damn thing  
It's full of charts and facts and figures  
And instructions for dancing  
**_

Things were going to be okay. In a few weeks Eliot would be back to fighting fit like nothing had happened. He was going to be fine.

Sitting here at Eliot's bedside, keeping an eye on the clock for the hour by hour wake up to ask his name, the president, where he was, and the date, holding _(clutching) _a folder of potential clients he hadn't managed to focus on…

Knowing he'd be fine only made Nate feel marginally better.

There were still twenty minutes to go when Eliot's eyes started to dance under his eyelids, his muscels tightening in the first signs of a nightmare. Nate hesitated in waking him up. It was a dangerous thing to try with Eliot. Nate looked over the damage on Eliot body and knew his usual method, pulling Eliot to sit up and holding him until the nightmare let go, wouldn't work well.

But he could talk, he always whispered calming nothings until Eliot came back.

Nate started to talk about nothing, whatever came to mind, reading from the files in front of him when his tired mind ran out of words. Eventually the hurt man began to settle back into a more peaceful sleep.

When it was time to wake Eliot up again Nate broke off reading only to see Eliot's unfocused eyes open.

"Eliot?"

"Eliot Spencer, 2009, Obama, home. Keep readin'." Eliot said, his voice a little sleep slurred.

"Huh?" Nate muttered, confused.

"Answerin' your questions an' makin' a request." He closed his eyes, a smile crossing his lips despite the bruise of his cheek. "'love it when you read to me."

"It's just a bunch of case files."

"Don't care." Eliot answered. "You can read me anything."

_**but I  
I love it when you read to me  
And you  
You can read me anything  
**_

Hardison got them all the newest i-phones, most likely just because he was a hacker and he outfitted the crew with their tech stuff and lately he'd been taking pride in making sure they were outfitted with the best. Besides, he probably hadn't paid for any of them.

But he got them all i-phones.

In the days that followed Nate's office reverberated with the sounds of five different i-phones as they all gave in first to their curiosity and then to their love of music.

Sophie's was mostly classical or show tunes. As much as Eliot would never admit it some of the tunes sent soaring through the apartment were actually pretty nice.

Hardison played techno and theme songs and got this really annoying habit of deciding on theme songs for everyone on the team and playing it when they entered the room. His i-phone had a mysterious accident after three hours.

Parker went through a long long list of random songs before deciding on the song "You Brains", a cheerful song about zombies, which she played on repeat and sang quietly along with.

Eliot got a pair of head phones and listened to his country loud enough to drown out the others.

But Nate, after messing with it for a little while, left his sitting abandoned on the kitchen counter top.

Eliot retrieved it, that was what he did after all. He went over the songs and CDs he'd heard Nate listening to and made a list, calling Maggie to add to it. After a bit of frustration getting the thing to work and do his bidding (cause he was not asking Hardison for help) he left it sitting where Nate had left it.

The others lost interest in their i-phones after a few days.

But every so often Eliot would come over to Nate's place unannounced and find him at the counter, reading files, and listening to the music Eliot had downloaded for him.

_**The book of love has music in it  
In fact music comes from  
Some of it is just transcendental  
Some of it is just really dump  
**_

Nate was late, or early, it really depended on whether or not Eliot had gotten that last message about getting home that night instead of the next morning.

Still, it was rather late at night, whether or not he was late.

Eliot wouldn't be sleeping, he didn't sleep that much, but he was probably reading something or working on his garden on the roof.

When Nate let himself into the apartment he expected it to be quiet. He didn't expect Eliot's voice to trail it's way from the kitchen.

"_to wear a smile, and baby you wear it well, and if I had my way I'd dress you in nothing else." _Nate dropped off his jacket and walked into the kitchen, leaning on the doorframe. _"So come over here and lay down a little while, cause you right now, oh your more than I deserve." _ Eliot turned from where he'd been cleaning up after cooking something and gave that Smile, stopping singing.

"Don't stop." Nate said. "I love it when you sing." He didn't say _to me. _He didn't need to. Singing was one thing Eliot rarely did in front of anyone, even him. When he did it was _to _him.

Eliot turned back to the counter, looking almost embarrassed. "Any requests?"

"I don't care. You can sing me anything."

_**But I  
I love it when you sing to me  
and You  
You can sing me anything  
**_

It was February 14th. February fucking 14th. The fucking fourteenth day of the fucking second month and Eliot was going to fucking kill the next person who looked at him and wish him a happy fucking Valentines Day. There was fucking nothing funny about it. There was a reason why he normally spent this day out of the country. In some small third world country. With lots of bad people who would much better serve the world if they were dead or severely maimed.

It had been twenty-three years and the day was still fucking unbearable to get through.

Even his sister calling, like she had every year on this day since they'd reconnected and before they'd broken contact, didn't make things better. He normally enjoyed hearing from her but the day was nearly as horrible for her to get through as it was for him. They clung to each other verbally for an hour before her husband came home and took care of her.

Eliot had gone to his own apartment, the one he owned solo and kept mostly for keeping up appearances and to have someplace to go to on days like this. Nate knew he only went there when he really wanted to be alone.

Of course Nathan Fucking Ford had never been smart enough to just leave well enough alone. So he showed up at the door with fucking flowers and a heart shaped box and a smirk on his face like he was enjoying making Eliot a girl on Valentines Day far too much.

The look changed when he let himself in and saw the ruin Eliot had reduced his normally immaculate apartment to.

"Go." Eliot told him, wincing internally as the flowers and chocolate fell. "Get out."

Nate stepped over the dropped presents and walked to Eliot, wrapping his arms around the half raging man.

Eliot didn't crumple into the hold, didn't let himself fall to pieces, didn't even acknowledge why the 14th fucking day of February messed him up like this. Not out loud, not in his head, not ever. It was twenty-three fucking long years and things had gotten worse, much worse. He shouldn't…

Nate still held him close and when his voice broke through the roar of Eliot's mind he heard Nate say. "s'alright. I've got you."

Eliot almost told, almost explained, the dark and fear and pain and fists that became hands for the first time and the night became a thing a fear like it should never be for a thirteen year old boy…

Memory rebelled against years of repression, words rebelled against his tongue, his stomach threatened to follow suit.

But he swallowed the words and the bile. Nate had lost so much and was angry at so much and this was long gone and buried. Nate would find out one day, Eliot knew no secret stayed a secret forever, but Eliot would let Nate keep this bit of innocence a little longer.

Nate's hands tightened around him and Eliot didn't even flashback when Nate whispered "I've got you." Into his hair.

He'd been too young then, but he understood much better now. That was something bad.

This was good.

_**The book of love is long and boring  
And written very long ago  
It's full of flower and heart shaped boxes  
and things we're all to young to know**_

Nate had debated a long time. He'd thought about jewelry, thought about fancy cars or knives or any of the kinds of things they gave each other as gifts. But those were things they'd given each other. They were gestures of love, but not this. This was different.

God this was different.

And god this had such a chance to blow up in his face.

He finally made his decision, it was different. It was bigger. It was more of a commitment. God it was a commitment and he hoped this worked out.

But he made his decision, bought the land, got the deed, and called Eliot, asking him if he wanted to go out to eat. Eliot said yes, that he actually had something he wanted to talk to Nate about.

They went out to dinner at the nice little Peruvian place they'd found awhile ago, turning off their cell phones as they went in to ensure their dinner wasn't interrupted.

After they finished eating Nate got up his nerve. "Hey Eliot I was thinking… I found this place. Kind of run down but a little bit of work and some fresh paint it'd be really nice. It has a stable and enough acres for horses, miles from anybody but not more than a couple hours drive from here." He pulled out the deed and slid it across the table. "I bought it, but I'd like it to be ours. To fix up, make the kind of place you can't tell me you havn't always wanted, and hire a few hands to keep it up. We'd stay there on the weekends or when you're healing up and someday when we're ready to retire we can settle down there."

Eliot's face was unreadable for a moment before he broke out into a smile. "Well, now I just feel outdone." He pulled a small box out of his jacket pocket. It was small. Nate's brain froze when he recognized the cloth covering and metal hinges, not processing. "I just gotcha a ring. Figured someone who'd been married before would be one for tradition."

Nate opened the box. Inside was a wide gold band with a subtle diamond inlaid into the gold it didn't look anything like an engagement ring, which was just fine with Nate. A long gold chain was laced though the ring so it could be worn around the neck and hidden under a shirt. Nate slid the chain out and the ring onto his finger. "I could get you a ring if you'd rather." Nate offered off hand.

"I'll keep this." Eliot added with a grin before he turned serious. "An' I'll keep you. Promise."

"Me to."

_**But I  
I love it when you give me thing  
And you  
You want to give me wedding rings**_


End file.
